im screaming this is perf


The Eleventh Hour so far has my favorite storytelling from Griffin! So here’s a pseudo-movie poster ehuehueue

Had to do another illustration for our Fantasy Illust class and our prof gave me the go signal to draw TAZ again as long as I found good face refs for them. B^) I based Magnus, Taako and Merle on John Spainhour, Paul Boche, and Brian Cox respectively! 

the anticipated return ft. feelings


for some reason, their parents want to spend time with them once they realize lexa is back for a week. 

this is… taxing. while lexa is good at keeping her mouth shut clarke is less capable (for many reasons) and this lack of alone time is clearly weighing on her. she loves her mother, of course, and has warmed to lexa’s father, but… she dreams almost every night of lexa pulling her hips back until she’s so full she’s dizzy with it. that slap of skin on skin is music and recently, it’s like she’s gone deaf.

it doesn’t help that lexa is stupidly hot doing normal, every day things. slumped on the couch after a run, tank top and loose sweats falling down to expose a sliver of stomach between navel and hip, it makes it so very hard to care at all about what abby is saying. 

and lexa knows, too. that smug little smirk as clarke has to ask her to repeat what she said for the third time. the way she stretches, triceps lean and sinewy and still so powerful. 

“–be back sometime on wednesday.“ 

now that catches her attention. 

“where are you going?”

abby frowns. 

“to a mountain resort, clarke. i just told you that.”

“oh, right. sorry. late night." 

(and a few more to come, if she has her way.)


they leave at 8pm that night and of course this means a family dinner together. she’s not sure where this midlife crisis came from of familial sympathy and bonding but it can go jump off a cliff. clarke’s been wet for hours, ever since lexa shackled her wrists to the wall and used just the right amount of teeth to bruise her lips ruby-red, and sitting here talking to lexa’s father about her finals is a lot more difficult when she’s sitting in a pool of her own slick. 

"and your english exam?”

“just a final essay and some close reading. not a big deal.” she swallows a mouthful of mashed potatoes, shifting from one side to the other. “i’m sure it went fine.”

“of course it did,” abby says with a smile. “you’ve been really good with your studies lately, clarke. i’m very proud.”

it’s easy to study when the reward is a picture of lexa fresh out the shower, droplets of water still rolling down the subtle swell of her breasts. she has a folder hidden within two other folders of so many such… incentives. 

“university’s getting closer,” she says with a shrug, going to shovel another bite of pork into her mouth and jumping just a little when she feels lexa’s hand on her knee. clarke clears her throat. “the marks are going to matter eventually." 

nails sinking into her flesh. there’s a full-body shiver that rolls through her and concentrates between her legs. clarke thinks about crossing them but her body can never say no to lexa, so her knees edge open just the slightest. out of the corner of her eye, lexa grins into her plate. 

there’s a lull and clarke focuses on chewing while lexa’s fingers dance higher along her inner thigh. all she wore was a skirt today in an attempt to quell the ache in her clit that’s been present ever since lexa came home two days ago; her knuckles are white around her fork as the pads of lexa’s fingers swipe through the wetness gathered on the insides of her thighs and bring them back up to her mouth to clean. 

"i hate you,” clarke gets out, voice low and rough. lexa raises a brow. 

“are you sure? you’re making a mess." 

and that cheeky half-smile shouldn’t bring about the rush of affection it does to her chest, but. it does. it has for a long time, and she’s long since past trying to play it down. 

that doesn’t mean she can’t despise her sometimes. 

"and whose fault is that?”

a shrug. the return of that hand, and clarke’s flush spreads down across her collar. “guilty.”

“damn ri-” two fingers sneaking into her underwear, running up her soaked slit. clarke chokes back the moan and swallows instead, unable to stop her hips from rolling into the light, teasing touch. 

“clarke?” abby says from the other end of the table. “are you alright?" 

"y-yeah.” lexa’s fingers make a sloppy, sticky noise as they slide and her entire face burns. “just… light-headed all of a sudden." 

"you look flushed. do you need to go lie down?" 

she makes to protest but lexa gently takes her own hand, still wet, and clamps it around clarke’s. draws it between her legs. hidden underneath the table cloth, clarke’s fingers fan around the hard length pressed against lexa’s jeans and this time she really is a little light-headed. 

"i think so, yeah." 

"okay. we’re leaving soon, so we’ll see you in a few days.”

abby comes around to say goodbye and lexa discreetly wipes her fingers on a napkin. she looks between the two of them for a second before pressing a kiss to golden hair and all the while clarke simply prays that her mother can’t smell how she’s ruined her underwear.

lexa finds her sprawled out in bed a half hour later. she took the time to clean the dishes and put away the leftovers and see their parents off, ever aware of the bulge pressing against her pelvis, before making the trek upstairs. clarke’s moans had been floating down from the staircase ever since the door shut and her clit throbs with the prospect of being the cause. 

she’s got two fingers buried in herself, working on a third, when lexa walks in. 

she leans against the doorway and crosses her arms, locking eyes with clarke across the room. “couldn’t wait?”

her free hand pinches a hard pink nipple. almost unconsciously, she spreads her legs to give lexa a better view. watches her trace the redness that’s spread out over her chest, continuing down across her belly and finally to the pretty pink folds of her cunt split by her greedy, soaking fingers. “been wet all day,” she pants, arching into her own touch. “empty.”

lexa unbuckles her jeans and leaves them by the door, stripping out of her shirt in one fluid motion. clarke’s gaze zeroes in on the swell hidden by her boxer shorts, stretched tight over her hips.

“poor babygirl,” lexa murmurs, fishing the toy out of her underwear. it hangs heavy between her legs and clarke drips at the sight. “get me ready and we can change that." 

she walks up to the bedside and clarke doesn’t hesitate to open her mouth, not even bothering to use her hands as she swallows the toy. it rubs right where lexa needs it and she hisses, fisting one hand in golden hair and letting her hips jerk forward. clarke moans around her, swallowing messy and sloppy and eager.

"if you weren’t so bad at hiding it, i could have made you come at dinner,” lexa pants, the smooth roll of her hips guiding the cock in and out of clarke’s mouth. “wearing a skirt, opening your legs. asking for it, weren’t you?”

clarke lets out a hum of agreement and swallows until her nose presses against lexa’s abdomen. her fingers have all of a sudden turned into not-quite-enough, the wrong size, not deep enough to quell the burning ache inside of her. she craves lexa’s fingers on the hollow of her hips so desperately it’s terrifying, yearns for their skin against each others and her nails down lexa’s back, to be so filled she couldn’t imagine taking another inch.

the other girl reaches down and twists her nipple until she cries out around her cock, pulling back with a slick noise and slack lips.

“lex, please.”

and clarke, so laid out and desperate for something only lexa can give to her? she can never resist it. so she clambers overtop and lets clarke’s wet fingers pull off her bra and wiggle her underwear down her thighs, sinking her nails into the swell of her ass as the toy settles against her cunt.

“please what?”

clarke lets out a whine of frustration, hips jerking up for friction. lexa’s hands are strong and sure as they pin her down and prevent her from taking what she needs, a dance they’ve done hundreds of times before.

“please fuck me, babe,” she says eventually into the crook of lexa’s neck. there’s a grin, a whispered good girl, and then a slow stretch that has her writhing on the bedspread. lexa coos in her ear the entire time she slips her cock inside and clarke blinks, hot and overwhelmed, as their hips meet. 

she considers sitting up for a moment but clarke wraps her arms around her neck and holds her, desperate for the body contact, and lexa can’t deny that she loves it this way, too. so close to clarke, feeling her skin slip and slide against her own, her lips as they mouth at the junction between throat and shoulder because she doesn’t know what else to do. her cries are so loud here, near to the source, and lexa drinks them in as her hips start to move.  

after what seems like an eternity, clarke gets what she wants. spread open around something so thick she struggles to catch her breath, each of lexa’s muscles shifting and coiling under her fingertips. their hair mixing in a pool of gold and brown on the mattress beneath her. lexa’s soft little grunts as the toy rubs against her clit with each thrust. 

if she’s honest, this is what she’s missed the most. while she loves getting fucked so hard she can barely move, lives for it, for the lingering reminder as red half-moons in the shape of lexa’s teeth, she can’t replicate this closeness like she can other things. can’t duplicate lexa’s heavy weight pressing her into the mattress, or the thrum of her heartbeat that lies parallel to her own, or the intimate gust of breath in her ear. 

but clarke… clarke’s always open and ready for lexa because her body is better at expressing its affection than her mouth is. the fact that her mere presence causes her to leak should be testament enough, but sometimes lexa forgets. 

but from the way she’s crying out now, she won’t be able to. 

lexa’s hands snake down and grip clarke’s hips, pulling her harder. clarke arches and keens as lexa’s teeth clamp down around her breast, hot tongue laving a circle around her nipple. the electric shock ripples down to her clit and she fists her hands in lexa’s hair desperately, pushing and pulling all at once, shaky and unsure except that she needs more.

“come for me, clarke,” lexa says as she pulls back, tugging hard on her nipple as she goes. “let go. i want to hear you." 

clarke drags her nails and when lexa jogs her hips, hilting herself, that ache she’s carried for days blooms in the pit of her belly. clarke doesn’t try to stop herself from coming, not with lexa murmuring so filthy in her ear, wrapping her legs around lexa’s hips and pinning her inside. 

she’s still panting and twitching, full and half out of her mind when lexa shifts, those strong thighs finding the floor. the cock jostles inside of her when lexa heaves her to standing, hands sunk into the flesh of her ass to hold her upright. 

"lexa,” clarke gasps, tilting her head to the side as teeth nibble on her throat, “fuck–" 

her back hits the wall a second later and she remembers the first time lexa ever made her come, opening her mouth wide and drinking her in until her legs could barely hold herself up. she’s learned, if the way she doesn’t let clarke’s feet touch the floor is any indication. 

it’s still rough, still deep, still wet and sloppy and so good, but the harsh jerk of her hips has turned into a roll. lexa rests her forehead against clarke’s and they trade air between them, breathing in every exhale forced out of her life a gift. 

"so beautiful,” lexa is murmuring, punctuated by slick, wet sounds as she pulls out. “you’re so good, clarke, taking it like a good girl. so wet for me.”

clarke manages to open her eyes to see lexa looking back. sometimes, she doesn’t quite understand what goes on in lexa’s head. the girl is an enigma when she wants to be but she prides herself on knowing her better than anyone else will ever, and here? deep in clarke’s cunt, feeding off her moans, tasting the salt of her skin and the way she trembles because of her? she knows better than she ever does that lexa wants her just as badly as clarke wants her back. 

she sees the change in lexa’s face as she grinds herself against the toy, the furrow in her brow and the drop in her hips. clarke cups her hands around the back of her neck and pulls until their lips are inches away. 

“use me,” she manages to choke out, the leather harness rubbing against her clit in a way that has her delirious with want. “i wanna come with you.”

and lexa knows how clarke shows her affection, that’s why she swallows and nods and picks up her pace, fucking the sharp little cries from her step-sister until they run into each other. until they’re pressed together, eyes locked despite the way they’ve gone hazy and distant, and clarke’s moans echo through the entire second floor.

“love you,” lexa mumbles into her mouth, so close to falling, and lava pours through clarke’s veins. 

(it’s not the first confession, no, but there’s something sacred about her saying it so raw and vulnerable, on the peak of something powerful. how it holds more weight when twined between their desperate bodies.)

each thrust bounces clarke against the wall. “gonna come,” she babbles, “gonna come, fuck, lexa, i’m gonna–” there’s a pressure she’s not used to in this position, a twisting between her legs, and the heat that has settled in her belly is different in a way that she knows and maybe she tries to warn her, she can’t remember, because lexa’s mouth is on hers and the other girl is coming, desperately pushing her hips upwards for friction and clarke can’t hold on, can’t keep herself together enough to–

when she comes back, numb and exhausted, shivering with aftershocks, lexa is chuckling quietly into her neck. 

“what?” she asks, struggling to catch her breath, but. lexa shifts and from between them comes this obscene squelching noise. 

“it’s a good thing we don’t have carpet upstairs.”

and honestly, clarke is too sated to be embarrassed. she’s still dripping, and the leather needs to be cleaned soon before it soaks fully into the harness, but all she can manage is a tired smirk and her fingers brushing hair back from lexa’s forehead. 

“it doesn’t happen all the time.”

lexa smiles, full and wide. clarke’s heart pounds for a completely different reason than before. 

“that’s okay. it’s hot.” she tilts her head so that her nose brushes against clarke’s palm. “i think i need to put you down, though. my legs are really wobbly.”

their lips meet, soft and gentle and entirely unlike how sore clarke is going to be tomorrow. “just another minute.”